In Which Celina Thinks About It

January 29, 1167

"You know, I could have called for a servant, Ovrean," Celina insisted as her visitor prodded at the flames. "Really, you didn't have to start a fire yourself just because I said it was a little chilly in here."

Passively insistent, Ovrean shook his head; he was facing the hearth, but it didn't take much to figure out he had a smile on his face. "It's no trouble--I do know how to light a fire."

Celina blushed--had she insulted him? "Well... yes, I'm sure, but you said you wanted to discuss something, and I figured you might want to get to it."

He chuckled, as he often did, but there was something different about it this time; she wasn't sure what it was. "It's probably best that we discuss it in private. I need your earnest opinion, and while you're one of the most honest people around, I can't take the risk that the presence of a third party would influence your response; it's important."

She nodded, though she had to wonder what on earth he might have needed from her. Surely anything vital would have been asked of her son, unless he felt she needed to be the one to bring it up with Lorn; Celina got the sense that Ovrean held her in a high regard, and while she appreciated that, she couldn't help but think that she wouldn't be of any use to him in this instance. "Fair enough."

Ovrean returned the poker to its place, then joined her on the couch. "I realize that this may be a little soon, but I've asked several people for advice and no two seem to agree on the precise definitions of 'soon' and 'late' and 'the right time'. So, I hope you don't mind that I've come to talk to you, seeing as yours is the only opinion that matters here; if I offend or upset you, please bear in mind that that was never my intention and I'm truly sorry."

This was beginning to sound a little odd. "All right..."

He smiled briefly before a serious look overcame his face; she would not have thought she would see such a jolly man as Ovrean so grave. "Well, first of all, I hope you know that I enjoy your company greatly, and I need to know whether or not you enjoy mine."

"Of course I do," she assured him, though she was still as clueless as ever in regards to what he wanted. "You're one of the most amiable men I know, but I'm curious as to why you ask."

Ovrean sighed, a hint of relief in his breath. "Thank you. You see... well, I'm not sure exactly how to put this."

"Just say whatever comes to you. I hope you don't feel as though you need to mince words around me."

He tossed back his head and closed his eyes; he'd always been a handsome man, but the glow of the fire made him even moreso. "I don't. I'm sorry. Anyway... the thing is, as inappropriate and ill-timed as it may be, I've grown quite fond of you."

Celina raised an eyebrow. She hadn't been expecting to hear that; a thousand different emotions welled within her at once. "Fond?"

He nodded. Deep in her chest, her heart gave the slightest of flutters, like a soaking young butterfly struggling to emerge from its cocoon. "And... well, I'll be forty next June, and lately I've been wondering who will bury me, and I have this lonely manor all to myself that could really use a family's love.

"I don't know. I realize it may be too soon for you to be thinking of anything, but whenever you feel it's time to start doing just that, I hope you will consider me if you see fit. I wouldn't mind living here if you and your younger children would prefer to stay with Lorn until he's a little older, and I could ride back to my manor a day each week or so, but I suppose there's no sense working out the details until I know whether or not you will even have me."

"Ovrean..." He cut her off with a shake of his head, for which she was admittedly grateful; she hadn't quite figured out what to say.

"I don't expect you to give me an answer right away," he told her, his eyes falling to his hands. "In fact, I might rest easier if you didn't. All I ask is that you think about it, or perhaps talk it over with your children and your friends; when you have made your decision, let me know. If you decide against it, then I'll understand and won't press the matter any further, and I hope we can still be friends."

Nodding, she allowed herself to lean on him; he lifted his arm and gently draped it around her shoulders. "Fair enough--I'll think about it."

"Thank you," he acknowledged. "I hope you don't feel pressured by any of this."

"I don't."

If she wanted to be honest with herself, she had to admit that she was still in love with Dalston. She probably always would be. But now that she thought about it, she did not think it impossible that she might one day grow to love someone like Ovrean--kind, generous, profoundly respectful Ovrean. Perhaps one could love two people?

"So, now that I've gotten that off my chest, how have you been?" he asked her.

She looked downward, indulging in a small, private smile. "Well enough, thank you."

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